Chine bLog

My very first finding at the Center for Wooden Boats, even before my Cape Ann dory sail and my close-up with Haida dugout canoes, was the biggest surprise. I walked into the Center and was immediately confronted by a few folks working away on some skin-on-frame Aleut baidarkas. It sure looked like a class, and indeed it was. Holy smokes, I thought, this place runs boatbuilding classes too? It does offer boatbuilding classes - lots - and a bunch of other kinds of classes too.

It seems they have run this class before, as there were a few finished baidarkas on the floats. I found these to be really lovely kayaks. I confess I am much more a fan of other forms of kayaks - some baidarkas just look funny to me - but these ones worked really well. The class was doing a fantastic job too. They were building the boats entirely with pegs and lashing and the details were great. I was particularly struck by the bows.

It seems that the various classes run the mix from being day or weekend classes to full-week ones, like this baidarka one. This would be a great destination. We haven't even touched on Puget Sound beyond...

As 2007 draws to a close, we can take stock of the year in many ways, and thinking about those no longer with us is one piece. There have, of course been many in our little sphere of interest to think about, and I won't try to go back. I will call out one, though: I recently learned that the brother of a good friend of mine from college died while kayaking off the coast of Maine last May. I was able to find an article about the incident, as well as a letter from his companion and some chatter in a discussion board. I never met Tim and I knew of him only distantly. I can't really count myself as one he touched. He was family of a friend, though, so for that alone I will remember him.

Tim was also a kayaker, though, and was thus a brother of sorts to all of us who, to crib from the Gloucester (MA) Fisherman's Memorial (and therefore from Psalm 107), "go down to the sea in [little] ships." As I suspected, there seems to have been an ample bit of Monday morning quarterbacking around the accident - they were unprepared, showed poor judgment, etc. As many pointed out, however, the "mistakes" the two paddlers made were common, especially for one with many years of experience. It strikes me that it is pretty easy to pick off things that would have been helpful after-the-fact, but how many of us routinely do not bother considering every possible case before setting out on a quick paddle? There are some things I would have done differently, sure, but I have done, and will continue to do, other things that would receive frowns if I ever suffered misfortune (e.g., I prefer paddling alone). I don't dismiss the "should / oughts," but I think they are a bit cheap.

The fact is that whatever spirit one chooses to identify with as master of the seas can basically take you whenever he/she/it deems fit. We all go forth onto the water we love knowing this, and I see no evidence Tim did not set out with similar understanding. There is, in fact, much to suggest things suddenly got hairier than they had been. The distinction of how we tend to view these kind of events was driven home last night as I began reading Frank and Margaret Dye's Ocean Crossing Wayfarer, one of my Christmas presents (more on this in another post). Even in the first chapter, and I believe the Dyes' would support this statement, it is clear that Frank Dye was, in many cases, incredibly damned lucky. The book cover touts his seamanship and courage, praise which IS much deserved, but for all his preparation, I already see many cases where if things had gone only slightly differently, he would have gone down in history as another unfortunate example of someone being 'a bit arrogant in the face of nature.'

In the spirit of messing about in boats, therefore, let us plan, prepare, and be mindful of the ocean's (or lake's or river's) power in the year ahead, but let us not, in the name of caution, squeeze out all the fun and adventure that makes our time on the water so special. Tim, I hope those who knew you will remember you for how you lived and I hope, wherever you are, you paddle continues taking you forward.

I liked this post by Jim Adams of the National Wildlife Federation about a kayak in Alaska. Always nice to hear about someone who has their priorities straight:

Mom was coming for a visit to discuss the wedding plans. And we were starting a long-overdue remodeling project. And Meg's night classes would begin again Monday. The sensible thing to do was to buckle down and get things done at home — so Meg and I packed the car and headed south to Seward and Resurrection Bay for some kayaking on what could be the last sunny weekend of the short Alaska summer.

David over at Never Sea Land posted some great pictures from Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival. There are a number of them and it would be impossible to highlight all the great boats in there. Just site back, scroll, and feel the love. I do recommend finding the Haida-style canoe - that is a nice traditional boat David shot among the classics.

Ah, and so comes to an end our Summer vacation, but what a good one it was. Highlights included some excellent paddling, as seen in the pictures below:

You can also see these plotted on a map.